Page 29 of Surrender

Eyebrows arched, Rhea Rockwood eyed her with an astute understanding that made Genevieve realize her mother knew her better than she realized. Closing the distance between them, Genevieve’s mother kissed her cheek gently, then stepped back to eye her with a sympathetic look.

“I’ll send up some tea for you.” With that, her mother left Genevieve standing in the middle of her room, struggling to deny that her mother might be right.

It took her more than a minute to collect her wits, and she began to pace the floor. Her mother’s words still ringing in her head, she ignored the voices in her head chastising her for thinking it was preposterous that she had feelings for Theo. Although she ached to be in his arms again, desire wasn’t love. It was absurd to think she was in love with the man. In the far recesses of her mind, jeering laughter wove its way into her consciousness.

Genevieve slammed the door on the mocking sound. She couldn’t be in love with Theo, could she? She released a noise of self-disgust. Of course not. Even if she were, nothing would come of it. Marriage was out of the question. Eventually, Theo would have to accept defeat. He needed an heir, and she couldn’t give him that. Ruckley had seen to that.

Another mocking laugh pushed its way into her mind, and she came to a halt in front of her bed, then sank down onto the mattress. Tears formed in her eyes as the same vulnerability and helplessness she’d experienced last night rolled over her like a hard wave, threatening to drag her down into a watery grave.

Be a phoenix. Sharp and abrupt, Peter’s voice filled the room as if her brother were standing right next to her. Startled, she looked in first one direction and then another, half expecting to see Peter with a stern expression on his face. When there was no sign of her brother’s tall figure, Genevieve closed her eyes and shook her head as tears threatened to streak down her cheeks.

No, she refused to act like one of the vacuous women she’d seen clinging to Theo’s arm. She was stronger than that. Much stronger. With a vicious swipe of her hand, Genevieve brushed aside her tears. She would be a phoenix. She would rise up out of her grief just as the mythical bird had from the flames.

Chapter 8

Theo leaned against the door frame just inside the parlor at Lyndham House, watching his cousin, Isabel, opening her birthday presents. His gaze didn’t linger on the young woman as he shifted his attention to Genevieve’s profile. She was speaking with their cousin, Amalie, and Theo’s jaw tightened.

It had been more than a week since the night the an dara sealladh had allowed him to speak with Peter in the carriage as he’d escorted Genevieve home. In all that time, he’d only seen her twice, once at the Metcalf party, and last night at the Buckstones affair. Both times she’d succeeded in avoiding being alone with him. It was frustrating as hell when he wanted to apologize for his harsh words that night in the carriage.

On both occasions, Genevieve had looked wan and listless. Even Count Ansbach had noticed her sickly manner and promptly made it his mission to try and lift her spirits. According to Fanny, the count had called on Genevieve at least three times in the past week. Now as he studied Genevieve from across the room, he was relieved to see the color had returned to her cheeks. Although it didn’t make him happy that Ansbach might have played a role in aiding her recovery.

“Why don’t you join Harry, Rufus, and me in the library for a game of billiards, instead of ogling the woman like a lovesick swain?”

“I’m not ogling her,” Theo bit out as he turned his head to glare at Jamie, who’d sidled up next to him. His fierce look did little to dampen the other man’s cheerful grin.

“No?” Jamie arched his eyebrows in mocking disagreement. “That’s not the way my mother sees it. I overheard her mention to Aunt Rhea before dinner that you seemed quite taken with Ginny.”

“She’s looked ill for the past week or so, and I’ve been concerned because I’m partly responsible.”

“Responsible? What happened?” The curiosity in Jamie’s voice made Theo’s mouth thin with self-disgust as he cleared his throat.

“Last week, I experienced the an dara sealladh while escorting her home, and Peter showed himself.”

“Damnation,” Jamie muttered as he glanced in Genevieve’s direction before meeting Theo’s eyes with a look of bewilderment. “But I thought you didn’t possess the gift.”

“So did I, but Peter must have realized how important it was to appear. I think he’s been watching over Genevieve, because he said she’d been wanting to talk to him.”

“And did she? Talk to him, that is?”

“What do you think,” Theo bit out between clenched teeth. “I could tell she wanted—needed to talk to him, but she didn’t trust me enough to speak to him.”

“Has it occurred to you that if she has feelings for you, there’s not a chance in hell she’d open up to Peter with you being the one to relay her every word.” Jamie’s words made Theo jerk slightly as his back became ramrod straight.

“What the devil are you talking about?”

“Christ Jesus, I’ve never seen two people so blind as to what’s right under their noses,” his cousin said with a sardonic arch of his eyebrows. “Although it might have taken me longer to see it if Peter hadn’t mentioned something a couple of weeks before he died.

“Exactly what did he say to you?” Theo frowned with annoyance.

“Not much, but I know he was extremely irritated at how long it was taking you to grab the bull by the horns and woo her.” Jamie eyed him with frustrated disappointment as Theo stared at his cousin in speechless disbelief. With a disgusted twist of his lips, Jamie released a small sound of annoyance. “You truly are an ass, Selbourne. Now, either come play some billiards with us, or remain here looking like a besotted idiot.”

With that, Jamie disappeared through the parlor doorway. Theo returned his gaze to Genevieve, his throat closing up. A beautiful smile curved her lips as she said something to Amalie, which resulted in the two of them laughing. Even the sound of Genevieve’s laugh was enough to make him happy. As he continued to drink in the sight of her, his collar grew snug around his throat, forcing him to resist the urge to tug at the starched material.

Almost as if she sensed him watching her, she turned her head toward him, and their eyes met. Her cheeks grew rosy beneath his gaze, and a split second later, her lovely features softened into a sultry look, as he saw awareness flicker in her gaze. In that instant, he realized the truth. Peter had been right, just as Jamie had pointed out a moment ago with astute perception.

He was in love with Genevieve.

The stiff material around his neck grew even tighter, and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Puzzlement swept across her face, and his throat closed with a sense of desperation. He was in love with a woman who desired him, but steadfastly refused to marry him. She’d not even hinted she had feelings for him other than desire.